Presently he heard the willows rustle, and, though it cost him an effort, he stood up when Devine strode into camp.

The latter glanced toward the hole they had dug to reach the water.
"You've let the horse break the sides down and stand in it," he said.
"We'll clean it down to the gravel and pitch the soil out." "Is it worth while ?" Weston asked.
"Yes," said Devine, dryly, "as we'll probably be here a day or two, I guess it is.

I'll tell you about it when we get supper." Weston might have noticed that there was something curious in his manner, but he was very weary, and his mind was a little hazy then.

He took the shovel, and toiled for some few minutes before a strip of stone he was endeavoring to wrench out broke beneath the blade.

He flung the fragments out of the hole, and one of them caught Devine's eye.
"Pitch me up that big round stone," he said sharply.
Weston did as he was bidden, and his comrade, falling upon his knee, smashed the fragments into little lumps, and then, clutching some of them tight in one hand, stood up with a hoarse, exultant laugh.
"We've struck the lode!" he exclaimed.
Weston was beside him in a moment, and Devine poured the crushed fragments into his hand.
"Look!" he said.
Weston did so, and while his heart thumped painfully the blood crept to his face.